


Argent's Mascule

by MorallyGray



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But the MCs aren't cool with the stupidity, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Heavy undertones, Interspecies Sex, Language Barrier, M/M, Slowish build, Stiles looks Human though, Very Questionable Society, endgame Peter/Chris/Stiles, for a short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorallyGray/pseuds/MorallyGray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is guilt-tripped into becoming the keeper of a mascule, a species of pack-oriented creatures closely related to humans. He argued with Allison about it for months until she wore him down. When he meets nineteen year old mascule Stiles, he doesn’t expect to fall so hard or quick. Despite the language barrier and social taboos, feelings begin to develop that he can’t push away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mascule live in packs, they speak very little human language, but have an intricate system of sounds and body language. Still, since they can't talk and they're more animalistic, they're treated like pets. The morality of all of this is talked about in the fic, so it isn't brushed under the rug. 
> 
> This fic starts with Chris and Stiles. By chapter 2 or 3 I hope to have Peter involved.
> 
> **This chapter was edited so that Chris knew Talia. I had a brain fart and realized that if Chris had dated Peter then he would know Talia and her family, so anyway, edited to include that and to show some of Chris's history with mascule**

Chris liked his life. It was quiet and for the first time in his life, he actually knew what it was like to be alone. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all. If he got lonely, he could call or text Allison. He checked up with her a few times a week where she lived in Boston, going to college. But for the most part, he was able to enjoy his house and being with only himself.

So he didn’t want a mascule. He had never really wanted one, but Allison wouldn’t leave him alone about it. It started before she even left, kept going through emails and phone calls, then finally she went on to straight blackmail.

At the end of November, she threatened not to come home for Christmas if he didn’t go with her to the center for mascule.

 “Allison, we’ve talked about this,” Chris said into the phone.

“But you’re there by yourself,” Allison said.

“I know. I like it that way.”

“I just worry about you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m happy.”

“You have to get lonely. I understand not wanting to date, that’s your business, but I really can’t handle you being there alone.”

“Allison,” he said tiredly, rubbing his forehead where the ache was already starting.

“I’m not saying you have to take one home. Just come with me and we can look into it. I’ll set up the appointment, send in the paperwork, everything.”

Chris rocked back in his desk chair for a few moments before finally exhaling heavily. “Okay.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I’m sorry. I just think it would be good for you,” Allison said.

She had the decency to sound guilty. The same way she always had when she had conned him into getting what she wanted. He had to wonder if the pay outs were worth her own self-criminalization.

“Yeah, okay. What time am I picking you up from the airport?” he asked.

They ironed out the details of her flight. He bit harder on the pen cap in his mouth when she brought up her boyfriend that was coming back with her.

“Be nice. Scott is a nice guy.”

“I’m always nice to him,” Chris said.

“Hardly.”

They spoke for a few more minutes before she said she had a class to get to.

“And Allison,” he said, before she hung up. “I said I’d go look. That’s all I have to do. Then you drop this, understand?”

“I know.”

When they hung up, Chris sat back and drummed his fingers on his desk. The quiet house stood around him and he took it in while he could. There was no way Allison was letting him leave the center without a mascule. Even if she didn’t say a word, he didn’t know if he could disappoint her like that.

So he took in the silence of his sanctuary for the precious time he had.

 

_Three weeks later_

The mascule center of Beacon Hills was twenty miles outside of town on the far edge of the Hale Preserve in the middle of secluded, thick green acreage. The drive there was beautiful, all hills and red woods mixed with pine. It was even better, because it was the first time he and Allison were alone since she got into town two days before. Scott had gone home to see his mom finally, so he had Allison to himself for the next four days.

“Did you read the pages I sent you?” Allison asked.

“I scanned them,” Chris said.

“It was just about their breeding program. It’s really small and selective. All of them get a lot of attention,” Allison said.

“They didn’t used to have a breeding program.”

“It’s newer. I didn’t know if you’d want a rescue.”

“Yeah I do. Cleaning your diapers was enough.”

“They have a few older ones too. Do you want one your age?” Allison asked, flipping through printed out pages in her hands.

“I don’t care.”

His tone was flatter than he meant. When he glanced at Allison, she was frowning, not pouting. He hadn’t seen her pout since she was a toddler, but still the expression that she was just trying to help and he had been an ass. He squeezed her hand on the console.

“I really don’t care,” he said again, but softened it with a smile. “Open to any age as long as it can crap and wipe by itself.”

She smiled back. It was his smile, the one that didn’t show teeth. Warmth flooded his chest. He might not get lonely often, but he had missed her so much. He squeezed her hand again then let it go as he turned into the driveway of the mascule center headed by a stone sign surrounded by landscaping that he hadn’t been to in over twenty years.

The center was a long building far off the road at the end of a circle drive. It still looked more like a retreated for the rich with more money than sense, than a mascule center. There were handfuls of mascule outside on the manicured green grass. An older group was sitting on the ground, gesturing towards each other. They didn’t look so much different than Chris and his friends, but if he went closer, he knew he would only hear the low grunts and titters that made up their language.

He parked the Tahoe to the side and stepped out on the gravel drive before rolling his shoulders and getting into the right headspace to be around so many mascule. Like walking into a pack of dogs, if they thought they could take you down they might try.  When they walked up the steps, he put his hand on Allison’s shoulders. Contact was important. Let them know what was protected by you so they didn’t think it could be kept by them.

Inside the large glass front doors was a desk with a few women wearing scrubs sitting behind.

“Can I help you?” one of the receptionist asked, with an industry smile.

“We have an appointment for Argent,” Chris said.

The woman typed on the thin computer then took a folder from the desk and stood, smiling again.

“If you would come with me,” she said.

Chris and Allison followed her through the large lower level. It was open enough to see the far wall completely made of windows, overlooking a line of pine trees over an acre away. They went up a flight of rustic stairs with the smell of sap still lingering on them.

“This is a beautiful place,” Allison said.

The receptionist smiled. “The Hales like to take good care of our charges while we have them.”

The stairway landed on a hallway that they passed down with open doors on either side. The base tones of non-words drifted out as they passed mascule lounging in their bunks. It looked like there were two sets of bunk beds in each large room, made with hotel quality blankets.

“And this is the director’s office,” the receptionist said when they had nearly reached the end. She tapped her pale knuckles on the door before pushing it open.

“Mrs. Hale, the Argents are here.”

“Thank you, Mary.”  

Mary gestured for them to go inside, then she closed the door behind them. Talia Hale came around the desk and held out her arms, smiling.

“Chris, it’s so good to see you again,” she said.

Chris hugged her back. “It is. How are you? The family?”

“Good. The family is good. This keeps us busy,” she said, then she smiled and looked at Allison. “You must be Allison. I haven’t seen you in years.”

Allison smiled. “I love your reserve.”

“Thank you,” Talia said. “Please, sit.”

Talia sat back behind her desk as Allison and Chris sat across from her. She looked through the folder the receptionist had brought, a small frown in her slightly lined face.

“You have a wonderful application. I can’t see where the board will have any problems approving you,” she said.

“Good,” Chris said.

“Allison, do you still live at home?” Talia asked.

“No. I’m just visiting for Christmas.”

Talia nodded without looking up from the papers. “Chris, you aren’t remarried?”

“No. It’s only me in the house.”

“No pets?”

“No.”

“Do you have a preference on gender or age?”

“I’d get along best with a male.”

“No age preference?”

“No younger than twenty and I don’t want any older than me.”

“Okay,” Talia said. “So many people want to take care of the babies to try and acclimate them early and the older ones are just left here.”

“I think I could handle an older one.”

“I’m sure you could,” she said. “If our first match doesn’t fit, you know you can bring them back.”

“Yes.”

He also knew how much shit the Hales talked about people who brought back the mascule that had been adopted. Being with Peter for those few years had been very enlightening for understanding that the public façade was bullshit.

Talia leaned back and pulled a few papers from a stack on the corner of her desk. “Now the fun part,” she said and passed a packet across the desk. “He is an older male, thirty-five. Dominate personality. Intelligent, vocal.”

Chris looked at the mascule in the picture. He handed it back. “Do you have any younger?”

“We have a set of twins, but they’re eighteen.”

Chris shook his head. “One is going to be more than enough. A submissive personality would be better too.”

Talia nodded and he could see her mind working as she went through more packets. Her dark hair hung in her face and she pushed it back absently as papers shuffled. They went through a few more that Chris put on a maybe list. Then they walked out of the office and went to meet them. The twenty-seven year old from a pack in Canada growled at him. His eyes flashed blue and Chris took him from his list.

“I don’t want one with a history of violence. I don’t want to sleep with one eye open,” Chris said. God knew he already did that enough.

“Of course,” Talia said.

She had him meet the twins when they passed through a rec room. They were playing some kind of video game, making clicking noises in the backs of their throats. They reminded him of dogs raised together. They wouldn’t move farther than a foot from each other. He couldn’t recognize why he didn’t like them, but he knew he didn’t.

One made his list. A sweet-faced twenty-five year old with green-brown eyes. When Chris held out his hand, the mascule shook it, although it seemed strange to him. His pupils thinned slightly and his nostrils flared, then he smiled with a quiet noise in the back of his throat. Chris felt himself smile.

“Jordan’s a favorite of Derek’s,” Talia said, smiling kindly at Jordan and running her fingers through the top of his dark blonde hair.

Jordan’s eyes snapped to her when she brought up her son. He made noise in his chest like a bark. His facial expression changed and it was so easy to read exactly what he was saying.

“He’ll be back next week, honey,” Talia said, running her fingers through Jordan’s hair.

Jordan smiled, showing his thick pointed canines.

“Dad, there’s Cora. I’m going to go say hi,” Allison said, looking across the room. “I’ll catch up.”

Chris watched her go before he could call a warning to stay aware of her surroundings. Then he had to take in that he might be being paranoid. There were ten mascule in this room and they were being peaceful, chattering to each other or watching a TV in the corner.

They left Jordan after he went back to his group and went back up the stairs.

“Is he up for placement?” Chris asked.

Talia nodded. “He’s a sweetheart too. Derek studies mascule in the field. When he’s home he keeps Jordan with him, but he can be gone for a month at a time and he doesn’t think it’s fair to not give him more stability than that.”

“Does he stay here when Derek is gone?”

“When I’m here. At night he goes home with me,” she said. “I have one more I want you to meet though. We just got him last month.”

“What’s his story?”

“He and his father were placed as a pair with a woman. She changed her mind after the father had settled in and brought the son back.”

“Was he close with his father?”

“Very. He isn’t taking the separation well.”

“Why was he brought back?”

“The woman said he was hyperactive, but we haven’t seen any of that yet.”

“How old?”

“Nineteen.”

Talia paused in front of a closed door and knocked on it quietly. “Stiles? I have someone I want you to meet, honey.” She waited a moment, then opened the door.

Unlike the other rooms, it had two full-sized beds, and no window. A dark-haired kid was sitting on one of the beds. He pushed his hand back through his hair, matting it down then pushing it up. A low chitter started and Chris could feel his anxiety like it made the air thicker.

“Stiles, this is Mr. Argent. He really wanted to meet you,” she said, going towards the bed and sitting on the edge.

Chris stayed at the foot while the boy kept looking from Talia to him, like he might bolt if he came any closer.

“Can he say hi?” Talia asked.

Stiles looked at Chris for a moment before nodding and looking away. Chris went closer until he was standing near the head of the bed. It had been so long since he interacted with mascule. He didn’t know what to do, so he held out his hand like he had to Jordan.

“It’s good to meet you.”

The boy looked at his hand before he took it and held onto it. Then he leaned forward and sniffed, his breath warm on the back of his fingers. Chris almost jumped when Stiles hardly touched one of his knuckles with his tongue. He spent two summers around them his junior and senior year of high school, but it still surprised him. Talia smiled and stood up.

“I’m going to give you two a few minutes. Chris, I’ll be in my office,” she said.

Talia stood and left the door open, allowing in the dull light from the hall. Chris shifted before sitting on the edge of the bed. The boy’s knees were drawn up to his chest. Even in the poor lighting, Chris could see his eyes were red and watery.

He didn’t know what to say or do. The kid could understand him. Most of the mascule that lived around humans understood them, but it wasn’t like he could reply more than a handful of words at best. He couldn’t say nothing, though. The poor kid was sitting in his room all alone when mascule didn’t like to be alone. They hated it. When he and Peter, Talia’s brother, were together, he had hear of one or two that went into severely depressive states from being touch starved and neglected. In the paper there were stories off it a few times a year, a mascule tied in a backyard like a dog and becoming despondent to the point of starving themselves to death. The kid wasn’t anywhere close to that, but the circles beneath his eyes was enough to see he wasn’t happy and hadn’t been for some time.

“How are you?” Chris asked.

Stiles sniffed and looked off to the corner. He gave a weak noise though, so Chris knew he wasn’t being ignored. The pain in the mascule’s brown eyes was so clear. He looked so much like Allison when she was upset it felt like his heart was bruised.

“You miss your dad. I know. It’s okay,” Chris said.

Stiles made a higher noise. Saying his heart was broken couldn’t have conveyed the hurt any clearer.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing his tongue over the bumps. They were tactile. That’s why peopled owned them, better than having a dog because it liked to cuddle as much as humans.

“Would you come here?” Chris asked before he could think too much.

He held out his arm and Stiles looked at him guarded for a moment then he scooted forward quickly and his arms were around Chris’s middle. Chris hugged him, trying not to tense when Stiles pushed his face against his neck. Hearing his shaky breath was enough to ease the tension.

“It’ll be okay,” Chris said automatically, rubbing the boy’s back, doing what he hoped someone would do for Allison if he was upset and he wasn’t there. “You’re okay.”  

The kid tightened his arms around him, digging his fingers into his shirt. He was making a noise that was so quiet he could hardly hear it. It sounded lost and small.

He held Stiles a little tighter when the kid’s breath got shakier. They were physical, but he didn’t expect the affects to happen so quickly or for Stiles to hold on so tightly. Minutes passed before he felt him heavier against his side. When he looked down, he saw tears on the boy’s cheeks, but his eyes were closed.

Then it was that easy.

He knew he was fucked, because he actually thought of just sitting there until the kid woke up.

Instead he gently laid the kid back on the pillow. His dark eyes opened as Chris pulled the blanket over him. He made a quiet miserable noise. Chris touched his hair. When he volunteered for his college application, this was his job, consoling, interacting. That’s what all the handlers were expected to do. It shocked him slightly how easy it was to slide into that role.

“I know this is hard,” Chris said quietly, continuing to pass his fingers through the dark hair when Stiles’s eyelids became heavier. “Does this feel good?” Chris asked. The kid nodded slightly. “Good.”  

He continued to do it until Stiles’s eyes dropped closed again and his breathing deepened again. Then he stood up and left the room, pulling the door quietly closed behind him. He went down the hall to Talia’s office and found her on her computer with Allison talking to her.

“What do I have to do to get his placement?” he asked.

Allison and Talia smiled at him like he was the second coming. He didn’t feel that way, his heart was heavy. After he filled out the paperwork, he went back down the hallway by himself, and into Stiles’s room. It was dark now as he leaned down by Stiles’s bedside table.

“Watch your eyes,” Chris said.

He flicked on the lamp and Stiles squinted his eyes against the light. Chris kneeled down and touched the back of his hand.

“Would you want to come live with me?” Chris asked quietly. “It isn’t as big or nice as here, but you would have your own room.”

Stiles made another noise, another high quiet one. He made a gesture with his hands then finally walked his fingers across the sheets, two sets. Then took one away and made another noise. It took Chris a few moments to understand what he was saying.

He shook his head. “I won’t bring you back. Not unless you wanted me to. You’ll be good for me?”

Stiles nodded.

“Would you like to come live with me?” Chris asked again.

Stiles nodded slightly, the lamp light creating gray dips beneath his eyes. His mouth opened then closed before he licked his dry lips.

“Yes,” Stiles said.

His voice was slightly rough from disuse, but it still made Chris’s chest lighter to hear it for the first time.

“Good,” Chris said, giving what he hoped was a warm smile.

Stiles gave a tiny one back that just lifted the scattering of moles on his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any typos. I'll go back in and fix them as I catch them.
> 
> Update: I changed chapter one a while ago to show that Chris knew the Hales and had worked at the Center before. It only made sense because he dated Peter in high school. Sorry I had a brain fart.

Talia couldn’t approve his application the same day, but she said it would go through before Christmas. So Chris let Allison take him to a mascule store after they left. It looked like a traditional furniture store in the front with the different styles of bedding the mascule from different pack regions preferred.

 “It says he likes the circle ones or that’s what he slept in before he was placed,” Allison said, looking at the handout Talia had given them.

“Hi, can I help you folks?” a salesman asked.

“We have it under control,” Chris said.

“This is one of our best sellers,” the salesman said, pressing on the mattress. Then he held out his hand, “Mark Davids.”

Chris shook his hand, not giving a name. Allison did the same.

“So what are you two looking for? New comer? Addition? Growing up?”

“We’re taking placement of a nineteen year old,” Chris said.

“Good age. They aren’t too set in their ways,” Mark said. “Well, like I said, this is our top seller. So cushy. You should’ve brought in your little guy so he could try it out.”

Chris put his hand on Allison’s back. “Excuse us.”

They walked away from the salesman and his head was already beginning to hurt. At a bed near them, an elderly woman was cooing to a thirty-something year old male mascule to try out the bed. He sat stone faced and watched Chris as he passed. Two young mascule were jumping on a mattress with a young couple beside them, the woman was smiling and holding one of their hands as it laughed.

“We’ll start with a chair,” Chris said. “Give the dumbass time to go to another section.”

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“He’s an idiot.”

All of the bedding and chairs were meant for the way mascule laid. They had a tendency to pull their limbs in tighter when they slept or relaxed. They could sit like humans, but they didn’t like to, it wasn’t as comfortable for them, so Chris and Allison looked through the chairs for one to put in the living room and another for Chris’s office.

Chris was feeling along the crease of one, looking if it had a footrest pull, when he felt the D-ring fastening. He pulled away and went to the next. After that, he checked each to check that it didn’t have an anchor for a leash.

Chris had just written down the serial number of a soft leather chair Stiles would probably like for the living room when another salesperson came to them, this time a man around Chris’s age.

“Anything I can help you with?”                                              

“No we’re fine,” Chris said.

“This one doesn’t have a leash anchor,” the man said. “It’s one of our few that doesn’t fortunately. If you liked this one, it has three,” he said, putting his hand on the back of a black chair with an overly soft interior that someone would sink into, limiting mobility, promoting laziness.

“No. Thank you,” he said.

“Well if you’ve found the one you want, I could show you to the collars and leashes.”

Chris glanced up to where the man was pointing. He would have missed them. He would have missed the whole section if the man hadn’t pointed it out. He swallowed back bile at the large crates on the floor, the cages.

“I said we’re fine.”  

“There’s some wonderful product over here,” the man said.

The corner of Allison’s mouth turned up, but it wasn’t her happy smile. It was more her, I might kick you in your balls smile.

“My dad doesn’t plan to abuse his charge, so I doubt we’ll need a cage, or bowls, leashes, really anything like that, so get your commission from someone else,” Allison said.

The man looked from Allison to Chris before giving a short nod and walking away, his face tinged red. Chris smiled and put his arm around Allison’s shoulders squeezing her slightly to his side.

“Let’s go,” he said. “They’re has to be a PETM store around here.”

Chris kept his eyes locked on the door when he saw the young couple with the two child mascule looking at a large cage. The kids were running inside of it with the gate open like it was a game. They wouldn’t be laughing anymore when it was closed and they were crate trained like puppies.

 

Chris didn’t get to go pick up Stiles until three days later. When Chris walked into the center, Stiles was sitting on the couch in the common area. A bag was beside it and he gnawed at his lower lip, his hands pushed into his hoodie.

“Stiles,” Chris said.

Stiles looked up and gave a little smile. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Chris said.

Stiles stood up and Chris hugged him. Stiles fingers balled into the back of his shirt before he nosed into Chris’s shirt, his chest expanding deeply. Chris breathed a little easier. If he was scenting him then there was a good shot of this working out. Especially with him doing it this early.

“Ready to go home?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded.

Chris gently pushed him away and picked up Stiles’s bag. He put his hand between Stiles’s shoulders as they walked out of the center. A few of the others looked at them. A few of them smiled, and others looked irritated, puffed up. He didn’t blame them. Stiles was a cute kid and they weren’t going to get a shot at claiming him.

When they went outside, Stiles’s slightly upturned nose flared. Chris smiled and squeezed the back of his neck. He opened the Tahoe door and Stiles climbed into the passenger seat.

“I’ll be right back, lock the doors,” Chris said.

Stiles nodded. Chris paused after he closed the door, waiting for the click of the locks. Then he went back inside and jogged up to Talia’s office. She already had the papers out for him to sign. He flipped through a few, put his name and date in a handful of places.

When he reached the bottom of the last page, he frowned.

“He’s sexual active?”

“He’s nineteen, Chris,” Talia said.

Chris hooved over the last line, recognizing that Stiles was sexually active and that he would take him to a specialist once a year to check for STDs.

“If he starts to act out, you live close enough to the center, we could work something out to bring a partner to you or you could bring him here,” Talia said. “We could even put him with Jordan to keep it stable.”

Chris signed the paper and pushed the packet across the table.

“And what about the dominance issues that come along with it?” Chris asked, looking at her steadily. “Talia, you should’ve told me about this.”

She pressed her lips together until they were white. “If you have to do it at all, it will only be once or twice. He’s a good boy, Chris. He deserves a good home.”

Chris frowned then rolled his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. We’re excited to have him.”

Talia smiled. “Good.”

She came around the desk to hug him.

“Peter’s going to be in town for Christmas,” she said after she pulled away.

“Is he? Tell him to give me a call. I’d love to see him,” Chris said, knowing that Peter wouldn’t call and knowing he wouldn’t make an effort either. It still made his gut feel a little hollow.

“I will. Have a good Christmas. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I will, you guys too,” Chris said, walking out.

When he walked back out to his truck, Stiles flicked the locks before Chris reached the handle. Stiles looked at him steadily from the passenger seat. Chris reached over to rub his fingers through his hair.

“Ready?”

Stiles made a noise like a cross between a raccoon and a cat, rumbling in his throat.

“Good,” Chris said, “Seatbelt.”

He heard it click as he put the truck in drive and started down the driveway.

Stiles watched out of the windows while the country blurred passed. When he made a low noise and turned away from the trees flashing passed, Chris watched him. His face was pale expect for two spots of red high on his cheeks.

“Do you get sick in the car?”

Stiles nodded.

“Put your head on the dash,” Chris said.

Stiles stared at him for a moment then put his forehead against the black plastic above the glove compartment. Chris reached over and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Tell me if I need to pull over,” Chris said.

Stiles nodded again.

“It isn’t very far.”

Stiles huffed.

Chris cranked on the cold air and aimed it at Stiles, praying that he wasn’t going to have to clean puke out of his carpet. When they pulled up in his driveway, Stiles’s head popped up and he went to get out of the car before undoing his seatbelt. It yanked him back and Chris couldn’t help laughing. Stiles fought with it, before looking at Chris with another little huff of annoyance. Chris leaned over the console and undid it, helping Stiles get untangled, then Stiles was out of the seat and on solid ground again. Laying on the ground, belly down, rubbing his face against the grass.

Chris laughed and leaned down to run his fingers through the back of Stiles’s hair before going towards the front door.

“Come in when you get tired of rolling around. I’ll show you your room,” Chris said.

Stiles was at his shoulder before he got the front door unlocked. Chris looked back and laughed slightly at the dirt on his face. Stiles let him rub it off with his thumb before he started to wiggle to get in the door. Once he got in, he just stood beside Chris though, his eyes going up the stairs, then to the big archway to the living room, then the one to the dining room.

“Look around,” Chris said, giving him a push.

That’s all he needed. The kid went into the living room. Chris followed him and sat on the couch. Stiles lingered, looking back at him.

“Go look around. I’ll be right here when you want to go up to your room,” Chris said.

Stiles went through the door towards the downstairs guestroom. Chris looked through an NRA magazine and kept half of his attention on the sound of Stiles’s footsteps through the lower level, through the back hallway, to the kitchen, opening the fridge, cabinets, bathroom, then finally completing the circle back at Chris.

“Room?”

Stiles nodded, so Chris pushed himself up from his chair and went up the stairs. Stiles followed after him. He opened doors behind, Chris, looking into each one, Allison’s room, the laundry room, bathroom, office.

“This one’s yours,” Chris said, pushing open the door.

Stiles walked in and looked around before making the same raccoon sounding noise in his throat.

“Your file said you liked blue and gray, so my daughter went crazy,” Chris said.

Stiles kicked off his shoes and crawled into his best. It was shaped like a circle and indented in the middle. He crawled into the divot and stretched out, his fingers clipping the top edge and his feet nearly touching the bottom before he curled in on himself. Chris went in and sat on the edge of the chair beside it.

“Did we do a good job?” he asked.

Stiles nosed into the pillows and trilled again before nodding. His eyes were already heavy, as he pulled one of the many pillows down against his chest and squeezed.

“Are you going to take a nap?”

“Yours?”

Chris frowned, trying to think of what he meant before Stiles ran his hand over the bed.

“Yours?”

“Where’s mine?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded.

When Chris stood up, Stiles followed him down the hall to the next door. Chris opened his door and Stiles went in, his nose twitching at the air again. He looked on Chris’s dresser, where he emptied his pockets at night then he went to the edge of the bed and looked back.

“That’s mine, do you understand?” Chris asked firmly.

Stiles ducked his eyes.

“Good,” Chris said. “You can get up there.”

Stiles’s pupils narrowed as he climbed up on the unmade bed. The scenting was good and the kid wasn’t just scenting, he was soaking up the smells. Chris shifted a little bit when Stiles stopped smelling the pillows and started to smell the mattress halfway down. His face heated up when Stiles licked the sheet right about where he knew some cum had ended up when he fell asleep after getting off.

“Come on, that’s enough,” Chris said.

Stiles snorted against the sheets then laid down. Chris wanted to laugh, because the kid was a shit. It should probably irritate him that he was already pushing boundaries, but really he didn’t care. It was a bed, if Stiles wanted to sleep on it, he didn’t give a shit. Later, when all the ground rules were in place, it would be fine if Stiles wanted to crash there, but he was new and he needed rules like a kid or a puppy.

“No, go sleep in your room,” Chris said.

Stiles frowned, but climbed out of his bed and went passed him. Chris hardly kept from smiling when he passed. Those puppy dog eyes were pathetic, too pathetic too be sad. The kid was forgetting, Chris had seen him cry. He knew what it looked like when he was upset. This wasn’t that. He closed the door behind Stiles. Stiles lingered at his own bedroom door, long enough that Chris stopped with him.

“Do you need something to drink or anything?”

Stiles shook his head then hugged Chris.

Chris hugged him back, cupping the back of his head and pressing him firm against his stomach. Letting him know he was safe. Letting him know he was wanted. There wasn’t time for an adjustment period with mascules especially ones like Stiles that had been misplaced. They needed affirmation and they needed it quickly. Chris didn’t mind giving it to him at all. He liked hugging. Maybe people didn’t expect it, because he didn’t look like the kind of person who did, but he did. He liked to hug, he liked to hold someone. When Allison was gone, it could be a few months before he could and even then it was usually quick. He hadn’t really held someone since his divorce. So standing in the hall with Stiles, he hugged him for a while. He was touch starved, but that was okay, because Stiles seemed to be too.

When he finally pulled away, Stiles took a second to let him go.

“I’m going to be in my office, do you remember where that is?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded.

“I’ll be right in there. Come and get me if you need anything.”

Stiles nodded again then bumped his nose under Chris’s jaw before going into his room, leaving the door open. Chris walked away when he started to strip out of his clothes, but not before he saw the moles dotting his back like they did his face.

 

 

It was only an hour or so before Scott brought Allison home. They stayed in the living room and watched TV while Chris barricaded himself in the kitchen under the pretense of making dinner. He was taking the chicken out of a marinade when Stiles came in with his hair still messy. He brushed his shoulder against Chris’s back before he took a seat at the bar.

“Sleep good?” Chris asked.

Stiles made a little noise that sounded positive.

“Water’s in the fridge, get one,” Chris said.

Stiles did what he was told then took his spot again, watching Chris’s hands with sleep glazed eyes while he worked. The noise of the TV came in from the living room and occasionally Allison and Scott’s voices. Stiles perked the first time he heard them, then glanced at Chris.

“Daughter and her boyfriend.”

He didn’t try to cover the tone of his voice when he said boyfriend and Stiles’s pupils narrowed slightly before thickening again.

“Allison, come meet Stiles,” Chris called, going to the sink to wash his hands and start cutting the vegetables.

Allison came in and Chris listened to her talk to Stiles and Stiles little noises back to her. If he wasn’t quite listening, it almost sounded like a regular conversation.

“I asked Scott to stay for dinner,” Allison said.

“Of course you did,” Chris said.

“Be nice, Dad.”

“I’m always nice,” Chris repeated, like he always had to.

Chris gave Stiles a piece of carrot and watched him chew before he spit it back into his hand, his nose drawing up.

“It isn’t that bad,” Chris said, laughing slightly.

Stiles flicked it into the trashcan and took a drink of water, running his tongue over his sharp eye teeth. He still had a sleep mark from the sheets across his cheek. Chris brushed it with his thumb.

“Comfortable bed?”  

Stiles nodded.

“It smells good, Mr. Argent,” Scott said, coming in from the dining room.

“Thank you, Scott.”

It was hard not to like the kid. He had a nice face, he looked trustworthy. The way he looked at Allison was like the moon shone out of her eyes, but there was just something about him he didn’t like. Maybe it was just that dad’s weren’t crazy about the boys sleeping with their daughter.

“Hi, Stiles,” Scott said.

Stiles looked at him evenly, then flicked his eyes to Chris.

“He’s fine, Stiles,” Chris said.

Scott reached toward him and Stiles’s lip twitched upward.

“Stiles,” Allison said.

Scott laughed uncomfortably drawing back his hand. “I guess he doesn’t like strangers?”

Allison looked at Chris, waiting for him to say something.

“Be nice,” Chris said.

Stiles large brown eyes widened as he looked back to Chris and his lower lip stuck out slightly.

“Go set the table, Alli,” Chris said.

Allison got plates down and Scott got the silverware. When they were gone, Chris squeezed the back of Stiles’s neck. Stiles hummed and bucked his nose back, nuzzling under Chris’s jaw. Chris smiled, feeling Stiles’s small noise that was more vibration and hearing the self-satisfaction in it.

“Good boy,” Chris said.

Stiles breath was warm when he let out a harder puff of air through his nose. It sent a little tingle to his crotch that he ignored before running his fingers through Stiles’s hair and continuing to the fridge to get out the rest of the vegetables.

 

That night, Chris was in his bedroom on his computer when Allison knocked on his open door.

“Mhm?” he asked.

“I think he’s upset,” she said.

Chris looked up from the order shipment he was confirming. “Where is he?”

“In his room.”

Chris put his computer to the side and got up.

“I thought I was done having to tuck people in,” Chris said, going to pass her in the doorway.

Allison gave a weak, slightly guilty smile as he went passed. Stiles’s room was separated by a bathroom from his own. He didn’t hear anything until he paused outside and waited. Then he heard the quiet small noise he may have missed if he wasn’t listening for it.

“Stiles?”

Stiles had his back to the door with his lamp on the bedside table. He looked over his shoulder and made a low noise before rolling over.

“Do you want me to sit in here for a while?”

Stiles nodded.

His eyes were red again. Chris thought Stiles was feeling better today. Since he picked him up he hadn’t acted upset at all. He took his nap, they ate dinner then he curled up in his chair in the living room while they watched a movie with Allison and Scott, all seeming as content as he could be in a new place. But nights were always worse, when people could think about things they had tried to push to the side.

Chris laid down in the center dip of the bed and Stiles scooted closer, looking up at him and waiting.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, holding out his arm.

Stiles scooted in against his chest and let out a deep warm breath that seeped through his t-shirt. Chris tilted his chin up before settling it more comfortably against Stiles’s hair. He hadn’t taken a shower, but his hair still smelled faintly of soap. It had reached the border line between fading into Stiles own scent, but that wasn’t bad. He didn’t smell dirty. He smelled healthy and warm. It was a scent Chris had missed from not being close enough to other people.

“Is everything okay with you being here? Do you feel comfortable?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded.

“Is it your dad?”

Stiles let out another slow uneven breath before nodding. Chris squeezed him closer. They laid there while Stiles let out little hurt noises occasionally until he scooted up and nosed beneath Chris’s jaw again, his breathing warm as it slowly evened. He was going to have to look that up, because he remembered the jaw thing from when he worked at the center, but he couldn’t remember what it meant for anything. They had so many oddities with their body language it was nearly impossible to remember them all without being around them constantly. At least there wasn’t any confusing the cuddling. That was universal, he could do that.

He petted Stiles’s hair as Stiles slept, and he stared at the ceiling, thinking of Stiles’s father, and how confusing it must be to be pulled completely away from your parent. When his own eyes started to feel heavy he decided he’d dig around a little bit. If he couldn’t find Stiles’s dad then Stiles was no worse off than he was now, but if he could, and if he could set up a time for them to meet occasionally, that would be great.

He kissed Stiles’s forehead before he slipped out of his arms and put one of the larger pillows in the space he occupied. Stiles grabbed it and curled down against it without opening his eyes.


End file.
